The Difference
by Mossmoon
Summary: At the Battle of Gettysburg, America and the rest of the world finally learn what makes him different from everyone else- especially England.
1. Awesomeness Begins

The rain was the same. It pelted down in warm droplets that were about the size of bullets. Water ran down the grey and blue uniforms like wet blood. Grey and blue…there were no red uniforms in this war.

The Union stood upwind to the rain, which mean that most of the rain hit them strait in the face. The Confederate soldiers were facing away from the strong, bitter wind, which meant that they were getting the numbing rain on the back of their necks.

Alfred whipped his dark blonde bangs out of his face. The rain was so terrible that even Nantucket wanted to lie down. He then adjusted his replacement glasses, again sorely wishing that he had Texas framing his face. Because the rain was going into his face, his vision was almost always obscured. Alfred quickly whipped them yet again, hoping that once this battle started, he would be able to see what was happening around him. It was suicide to go into battle as blind as a bat.

But he was also trying to find someone else on the Confederate side of the battlefield. As hard as it was to believe, the tall, blonde Union soldier was the personification of America. He felt what the people felt, he was as strong as all of his people combined, and he was always the first one to know when something was wrong. He was almost a hundred years old and he still looked like a teenager. After all, his country was considered young, so he was young too. Alfred had fought in all of the wars that his country had fought in. He had been in the Revolutionary War and demanded freedom from England. He had cried "Remember the Alamo!" during the Mexican War. He had done everything he could for his country.

Alfred was the embodiment of America himself. Everything that was in America was in him, and everything that tried to break away from America tried to break away from him.

Which was exactly the problem.

America scanned the rows of the Confederate soldiers again, attempting to find that traitor who tore him in half. As there was always darkness to the light, there was always someone who opposed the government. Normally, it wasn't too bad, but now that the South had revolted and had seceded Alfred's beautiful country, a new country had been born. Alfred had been unconscious with an almost lethal fever at the time of the new country's birth, but he soon learned who the new embodiment of the revolting states was. She was the person who Alfred was now targeting, and the person who had torn Alfred apart.

Her name was Cassy, and she was the young embodiment of the Confederate States of America. She was downwind, somewhere in the ranks of the Confederacy. Her long, golden braids would be dripping from the rain, and her blue eyes would be flashing with energy, as if she had already won the war and was waiting for the victory parade to start. She was the South, the resistance, the traitor. Cassy was the one who screamed of rising taxes and inferiority in the government. She was the one who created this terrible war.

When Alfred first heard of her, he couldn't help but think of himself. After all, wasn't he the one who had stood up to England and told him of the unfair taxes on the colony? Didn't he scream "taxation without representation" about a thousand times? Wasn't he the one who threw a box of tea off a British ship during the Boston Tea Party? He started the Revolutionary War and got away from England. And Cassy had done the same thing. She was just following in his footsteps. Which was exactly the problem, because Alfred wanted all of America, not half of it. America was strong only when he was together. Ever since this Civil War, he was weak. He wanted America put back together- all of it. Even South Carolina, the birthplace of this disastrous war.

_I sound like England, _Alfred thought to himself, flinching at the idea. He wanted his land back from those rebels who thought they were getting justice. Right now, he though he seemed like those redcoats who tried to keep him from gaining freedom. _He_ was trying to keep those Southerners from succeeding and giving them the freedom they wanted.

But then Alfred shook his head, spraying water everywhere and abandoning all of those thought from his head. _I'm just protecting my people from making a stupid mistake, _he assured himself, _I just don't want them to get hurt. _

Although, he couldn't help but shake the feeling that was the thought that was in England's head during the Revolutionary War.

He quickly went back to focusing on the other army, and finally he found the person he was looking for.

She was standing in the exact opposite to where he was standing. They were both directly ahead of their commanding officers; ready to send their armies against each other. She was wearing the normal soldier's attire, just like him, except her uniform was the bland grey Confederate Uniform, while his was the navy blue uniform garb. Cassy's vibrant eyes were framed by Texas, while his were surrounded blandly by a normal pair of glasses that just served as a replacement to the ones she stole. Her musket was held loosely in her left hand, just like Alfred. She brushed some of her long bangs out of her face, and by doing so, caught sight of him staring at her from across the battlefield.

Cassy winked at his cockily, as if she couldn't care less on how this would end. She then pretended to fire the gun at him, challenging the Alfred and infuriating the nation even more. It was as if she had already decided that he would fail miserably in this battle. Then, the rebelling nation turned to her superiors.

Quickly, the embodiment of America did the same. The generals were just finishing their debrief, and soon turned around to face the embodiment of the Union.

"America, since this is your first time in battle since this war started, you're going to be in the back help out the snipers," General Meade ordered.

America started to nod; this was indeed his first battle. He had been unable to serve because of bad heath because of the _incident _where his whole lower half of his body stopped working. This decision made sense; it would help him get back into the swing of things.

But then he stopped himself, remembering that his nemesis was going to lead her army into battle. It would seem weak for him to not do the same.

"Sir," Alfred started bluntly, "I'll go back to help the snipers after I've led this army into battle."

All of the generals seemed appalled by the idea, and one even looked like he might consider taking Alfred to the closest hospital around.

General Meade, the leader of the group, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "I think not, young man," he told America in a tone that offered no argument, "You're still too weak to do that. And besides, I promised to President Lincoln that I would keep you safe."

But Alfred, with his unique gift to read the atmosphere, rebutted. "But the Confederate States of America is over there. I could kill her now. I could turn this war around. I must lead my people into the battle. She will be doing the same thing. It will be just like the Revolutionary War..." Alfred hesitated as memories of another rainy night filled his head, and he quickly finished, "This battle could determine everything."

Meade seemed to stop and think for a moment, but then put both hands on Alfred's shoulders in a death grip. "That may be so, but I don't want to disappoint Lincoln. And I don't care of the nation is over there too. I don't want you on the front lines. In fact, snipe her. I'm sure someone will show you how if you're that important. Now, go back to there, and that's and ORDER!" The last part was a yell, and it attracted quite a few stares from the surrounding soldiers.

Alfred, a plan hatching in his head, nodded. "Fine," he answered back obediently. He then turned and walked away from the group of generals.

"Hurry up!" he heard General Meade call, "The Confederate Army seems to be coming. This battle will start soon."

In response, Alfred picked up the pace a little bit and started to jog to where he knew the snipers were supposed to be.

Of course, once he was out of sight, he turned to the right and tried to find the edge of the Union ranks. He would join the front ranks there and meet Cassy when the two armies met. No matter what, he would find the younger nation.

Of course, he was disobeying a direct order, but he was America. It was in his blood to disobey.

* * *

**All right, so for those people who haven't noticed, this is an American Civil War fanfic. I'm only going to go over the basics of the history: **

**-South Carolina was the first state to secede from the Union.**

**-The Battle of Gettysburg was the suppoded turning point of the war (at least, that was when the Union started winning battles). **

**-General Meade was the general who lead the Union soldiers at the Battle of Gettysburg. **

**Let's see...yeah, that's about the basics of it. I had to make the Confederacy a girl because there needs to be more girls in Hetalia, and in December I might write some more fanfictions about her. I just like the character I made for her...I AM NOT A CONFEDERATE SYMPATHIZER! I EVEN HAD AN ANCESTOR AS A GENERAL ON THE UNION SIDE! (And I'm still not entirely sure why that is important nowadays...my friend just told me to write that in here.)**

**I'm going to update this pretty soon, and this is definately going to be done by November first, because I'm doing this nanowrimo thing that's going to take up all of my time, and I would feel bad if I just left you hanging. This is going to have two or three chapters, so look for this!**

**Also, REVIEW! I love reviews! They make me happy on the inside! ;)**


	2. Awesomeness Ends

Soon Alfred found himself positioned at the front left of the Union army, well away from his commanding officers.

He had never lost sight of Cassy as he changed his position and went against Meade's orders. She was still standing at the front of her army, but unlike him, she was standing at the front of her army. She was ready to march her army into battle, and it looked like she was looking for him, too. Cassy kept glancing around worriedly, like she was afraid someone would come up and stab her.

It wasn't that far-off of a concern, actually. Alfred was also worried about the same thing, too. It would be so simple for a nation to hide behind a building and jump out to stab one of them.

France, England and Russia were all at least acquainted with this civil war, even though they were not fighting in this war. France and England had both sided with the Confederacy, and it was only out of God's grace did Russia side with America. It was only because of Russia that the other two counties didn't start sending troops over here and this war wouldn't become an international war. But that also meant that there were other killers out there, and it makes you worry about being stabbed.

"March!" Meade's voice broke Alfred out of his reverie. He was thankful for it, too. The Confederate army had already started to march towards them, and Cassy was staring at him purposefully, her gun already aimed at him.

_Shoot._ Alfred though, cursing his incompetence in focusing.

He marched a few feet ahead of his fellow soldiers, aiming his own gun at Cassy, placing his index finger on the trigger. No matter what, he was determined to by the first one to shoot.

Cassy suddenly broke out into a run, and Alfred did the same, He didn't wasn't to seem weak, especially in front of his own troops.

They both ran together at the center of the opening between the two troops, and being the air-headed people they both normally tend to be, forget to pull the triggers on their guns. Their weapons came together with a crash. Cassy, with a weaker-made gun and with less force behind her strike, fell on her bottom and into the slimy mud. It flew up and covered her uniform with a sickening splat.

Alfred, suddenly remembering his gun, aimed it down at the young female country. He was about to pull the trigger, but the he heard a similar sound.

The butt of a musket hit the ground and fell over into the damp ground, mirroring something that happened almost a hundred years ago.

In turn, he heard a general's order to hold fire. He couldn't tell which side said it, though, but it didn't matter. They were waiting to see what would happen.

And then Alfred's mind thought back a hundred years ago, when he was fighting for his own freedom. To was a setting just like this, with a terrible amount of rain pouring down, like someone from high up was crying. But instead of the grey uniforms in this setting, there were redcoats. The roles switched, and in Alfred's mind, he had the gun pointed at him. In a millisecond, he was a hundred years younger. In one awful moment in time, his eyes got better and he didn't need glasses anymore. He had no memories of any other wars, of the separation of his country. In fact, in on second, he didn't even remember that he owned a country; that he was himself, and there was no one else telling him what to do. The only thing he could think of was the problem at hand.

His problem was dressed in one of those dreaded redcoats, and his problem was pointing a gun at him. It was also a man with pale skin and bushy eyebrows that seemed to obscure the light green of his irises. And even though Alfred was much taller than the person who was threatening him, his problem seemed much more menacing.

His problem was England, his older brother, his father-figure, the person who helped him grow up, and the person he was demanding freedom from.

America was disarmed, looking at England with a sense of horror, and thinking that his life was over and his beautiful country would never get on its own two feet. All it would take would be for England to pull the trigger to his gun-aimed directly at America- and it would be all over.

"You...fool," England hissed, clenching his teeth together. America looked down at the tip of England's musket and raised his hand shakily, ready to be shot.

But the England did something that America thought he would never see his brother do: he dropped the musket and fell to his knees. England's hands went to his face and a raspy sob came out of his mouth.

"How could I shoot you?" England cried, along with an onslaught of cuss words.

America just stood there, dumbfounded and at a loss. This was England, for crying out loud! A world superpower...his guardian.

You used to be so tall, was the only thing America could think, knowing that he had won the war.

But for some reason, his winning the war didn't make him as happy as he thought he would be...

...and now a hundred years pass in a millisecond, and America is faced with the same dreadful situation. Except for now the roles have changed, and a new rebel had been added to the equation. She was sitting on her bum, young and foolish, staring blankly at the point on his gun.

He had a choice. Would he let this young, stupid country be? Or should he kill her? He truthfully didn't have anything but bad memories of her, and she was only an enemy who wanted the same land as his own.

But then again, she was another embodiment of freedom, and someone else who attacked injustices. And could he really kill a country? Was he really that heartless?

A long silence followed, and the Confederacy finally opened her mouth.

"I knew you were like England. You take away my people's rights so they cannot even make a decent living. You're nothing but a king without his crown, just like him! And you're not even going to shoot me, are you? You're so weak, just like him!" She laughed and started to get up.

Her word were like ice stabbing into his back. He was like England? He was considered weak?

"No," America said slowly, "I am not England..." He pulled the trigger, determined to show her wrong.

And that was the turning point of the American Civil War.

* * *

_It's been a hundred years. And man, have things changed. After the Battle of Gettysburg, the Union started to win more battles than losing them, and we got the South back under control. This country has become one, and the world has changed a lot, too. I mean, we've had two world wars...wow...two World Wars...that must be a new record or something..._

Alfred then chuckled, remembering that here had been no other world wars in the past.

Today was one of those extremely rare days where he actually sat down and did some thinking. And since today was the hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, he had been thinking about the Civil War.

_Now how many times did I get shot that day? _He asked fondly. After he had killed Cassy, the Confederate army had opened-fired on him, which had led to some...unpleasant business, which had meant that he had been so many times that the Union medics were still taking bullets out of him after the battle had ended, three days later. And not to mention the trouble he got into by disobeying orders.

_Yeah, that was pretty bad,_ Alfred thought, flinching at the memory, but at least I killed her and got my land back...

_...thank God England didn't decide to shoot me. _

Without thinking, America picked up his phone and dialed a very familiar number. He listened to the phone buzz for a few moments, and then a British accent came through from the other end.

"What do you want, you bloody git? I am too busy to talk right now," and annoyed voice said.

"Thank you," America breathed, recognizing the voice of England on the other end.

"For what?" England asked, still sounding annoyed but a little confused.

_For not shooting me when I deserved it. For not being stubborn and taking back your land. For loving your little brother-your colony. For letting me live. _Thoughts crammed into America's brain, as if a dam just burst.

"Just...thanks. You wouldn't understand," America answered simply.

"Git," England huffed, "Is this a joke?"

America only smiled, aware that England would never be able to comprehend.

_And thank you for becoming my friend._

_____

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**So, what do you think? I had to rush through it, because I'm going to be really busy in November and I wanted to finish this before I got super-busy. **

**Please review and tell me what to think, or else I'll kill someone off in my next Hetalia fanfiction! **


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